


Duty of Care

by Arrison



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AKA The Holy Trifecta, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Angst, Dirty Talk, Dom Steve Rogers, Dom/sub, Drunk Sex, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Light BDSM, M/M, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), Smut, Sub Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-04 22:24:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5350625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arrison/pseuds/Arrison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After three years of drifting between jobs and hobbies, Bucky finally decides to see if university really is the magical ticket to help him discover who he is and what he wants. But moving half-way across the country necessitates new accommodation and new friends, and thus he applies (successfully) for an on-site residential college; a community thriving with life, support, events...</p><p>... Unexpected figments from his past, complicated relationships, missed connections, and seemingly very few moments to actually fit in a moment of study.</p><p>Good thing there's a more experienced resident assigned to his floor that he can always go to if there's any problems.</p><p>No chance that particular system could backfire...</p><p>[A/N: At this stage, the tags are to give you more of an idea of what you are in for long-term rather than what has been written, given that we are only one chapter in to this. More specific tags will be added as they emerge, but for now this should give you an idea of what to expect.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Move-In Day

“You’re sure this is it?” Bucky drawled to the window of the taxi-cab, neck bent slightly and eyes darting underneath the small furrow of his brow as they flicked over the building outside.

“‘msure.” Came the grumbled response from the driver. “You gon’ pay me or what?”

Bucky slowly drew in a breath, rolling back his shoulders and relaxing the frown on his face, but still intently looking outside.

“Yeah…” He spoke distractedly. The driver cleared his throat, and Bucky snapped his attentions back to the immediacy of the cab. “Yeah.” He spoke a little clearer, looking down at his pocket as he arched his hips off the seat to ease the process of plucking his wallet from his jeans. He opened it, glancing at the meter for a second before plucking out several notes and handing them over to the man. “I’ll need the change.” He half-muttered, receiving a sharp grunt of acknowledgement. The notes were counted out and coins clattered in the driver’s hand, then in Bucky’s as they were handed over. 

A backpack was hoisted over one shoulder, the car door was opened, and coins were stuffed into wallet into the pockets of his dark jeans. The trunk of the car popped as he rounded to it. He raised it high, hauled his steel grey suitcase out of the space, and firmly closed the trunk.

No time elapsed between the trunk clicking closed and the taxi driver speeding away. Bucky stood at the edge of the road with backpack and suitcase. He shifted in his boots for a moment, then drew the unoccupied strap of his backpack over his shoulder, tugging the dark red fabric of his loose fitting Henley shirt from underneath it. 

He looked back up at the building.

 _Welcome to your new home!_ The message was painted in blue across a large banner of seemingly grey paper, idling in the wind. A large shark drawn into the corner, clearly by an artist who noted the off-white of the paper; painting a few white spots where necessary for the shark, rather than painting the whole thing grey. Bunches of blue and white balloons flagged the upper corners of the banner and the automated doors in front of him, the glass of which was plastered with printed signs of “Welcome” and “Follow the arrows.”

Bucky drew the straps of his backpack closer, drumming his fingers once and slow along them. Then he slipped one hand away, dipping it down and taking the handle of his suitcase and wheeling it behind him; entering into the building.

There was an immediate assault of loud, cheerful music and people conversing in a similar a manner. Many clad in slightly-unfortunate polo shirts of blue with white piping. All of them crowded on the upper level of the space; Bucky himself standing in the small foyer that fed into a staircase plastered with arrows. With a quick glance, only four of the many arrows appeared to point in another direction to the majority. He continued to cautiously pan across the novel space; a small grimace tugged in the corner of Bucky’s lips. He took a few steps forward, took his suitcase by its strap and pulled it up as he ascended the stairs, then placed it back on its wheels as he continued forward with head down to a currently cleared office window. Several metres in length and manned by a dark haired woman and a balding man. The arrows pointed to the side she occupied. He walked over to her.

A polite smile stretched across her lips as soon as she noticed him.

“Hi.” She greeted warmly, albeit curt. “And welcome. You’ve picked the perfect time to arrive.” He frowned a little to the statement, tilting his head slightly in question. “No line at all.” She noted. He simply gave a small, curt laugh.

“Ah, yeah, I guess so.” He agreed, looking over his shoulder at the non-existent queue, followed by a sweep of his gaze over all the smiles and enthusiasm. His Adam’s apple bobbed with a minute swallow, before he turned his attention back to her. “So, uh, how does this work?” Bucky asked, slightly louder as the music in the background notable swelled in volume. The woman in front of him pursed her lips.

“Apologise for this.” She stated plainly, swiftly turning her attention away from him and off into the distance. Bucky followed her line of sight to where a tall, broad shouldered man with a messy bun of blonde hair was fiddling with a stereo system. “Mr Odinson!” She cried out. The man jumped, looking at her, then turned to the stereo and adjusted a knob. The music faded into the background. He waved a large hand in their direction.

“Sorry!” He boomed across the space; grin flashing and voice easily louder than the music and everyone else talking combined. Bucky looked back to the woman, who was shaking her head slightly.

“Again, my apologies.” She offered with a sigh, before defaulting back into her polite grin. “Now. First thing’s first: Do you have some ID?” She asked.

“Yeah.” Bucky affirmed, wallet back out and flipped open. He handed over his driver’s license, which she examined for a moment before bending over a lower desk on her side of the service ledge. She typed a few keys, then made a few clicks of her mouse.

“Excellent. Thank you, Mr Barnes.” She handed him back his wallet. “Now Mr Coulson will take care of your photo and room card.” She indicated to the man beside her, and Bucky simply nodded, taking a few steps over to the other side of the counter. A small webcam had been raised above it, which Bucky frowned at slightly.

“Not the happiest of expressions, but that’s okay.” Coulson smiled from where he was seated. “We have to take a photo for security purposes.” He explained. Bucky nodded again, looking back to the camera with a hint of a smile.

“Perfect. In three, two, one… And done.” He declared happily, the sound of small mechanics whirring out of sight. “Now, let’s see here…” Coulson looked over his monitor. “Hm, your RA isn’t here at the moment. Maria-“ He turned in his chair to face the woman standing a few steps to his side. “Who’s close to W3?”

“Mr Wilson is in W4.” Maria replied, arching up on her feet before clearly making eye contact with the person in question, waving a hand before beckoning toward the counter.

“Perfect.” Coulson repeated, continuing to smile as he turned his attention back to Bucky. “Sam will show you about the place. Give you the tour, explain a few things. Oh, and here.” He slid a labelled envelope across the counter. _James Buchannan Barnes. W308_. Bucky plucked it up. It felt pretty weightless, and he could make out what appeared to be like a credit card stuffed into the corner of it.

“Uh, thanks.” Bucky minutely flicked the envelope at Coulson, turning on heel and jerking to a stop in mid-stride.

“Welcome.” He was greeted to a bright, wide smile, and an upfront view of one of the polo shirts. “Sam Wilson.” He introduced himself, holding out a large hand.

“… Bucky. Bucky Barnes.” He slowly offered as he took the extended hand and the consequent firm and enthusiastic handshake, managing a small though limited smile to match it.

“Awesome. Well, welcome to your new home-away-from-home!” Sam declared, stretching out his arms and indicating to the walls and space around them. He chuckled as he lowered them back down. “You’re gonna love it here, trust me.” He reassured, taking a few steps backward as he talked; leading Bucky forward. “Now there’s a fair bit to take in, but don’t worry if you forget it. Hell, even if you forget my name, I won’t hold it against ya too much” He clapped Bucky on the shoulder and grinned, before nodding to the envelope in his hand. “Can I have a look?” He asked.

“Sure.” Bucky stated plainly, a small twitch of his shoulders in a shrug as he handed over. Sam only looked at it for a moment.

“Ahhh” He trailed off. “That’s okay. You’re not one of mine, but your RA is one of the best, so you’ve got nothing to worry about.” He smiled, handing back over the envelope.

“RA?” Bucky lightly frowned, putting the envelope in his back pocket.

“Residential Advisor.” Sam started, pointing to an emblem on his shirt. A shark, open-mouthed and jumping out of the water. And underneath it, stitched in white against the blue, was his name, and underneath it the term. _Residential Advisor_. “There’s a few teams of students here who keep this place going, and we’re one of them. It’s kinda broad but RAs are basically here to look-out for your wellbeing. Make sure you settle in, travel along okay, give you help as ya need it. Some people refer to it as ‘College Mum and Dad’” He drew out air-quotes in the air, chuckling. “Which I guess is kinda true. We will kick ya ass if you’re causing too much trouble. But really we’re here for you, as cheesy as that sounds.” He shrugged, still sporting his large grin, now lopsided. Bucky huffed with a silent, internal laugh. “Though uh, if and when ya meet Peggy… Don’t call her anything maternal.” He cautioned.

“Righttt…” He drawled, biting on his lip lightly as he thought with a slightly amused smile. “But you’re not ‘mine’?” He repeated, expression drawing neutral.

“All the RAs look out for everyone, but there’s one assigned to each floor.” Sam explained. “I’m on the floor above, but your RA will introduce himself A-SAP.” He smiled, then waved a hand out to the rest of the building. “Let’s walk and talk.” Bucky nodded, falling into step by Sam as he took them back to the top of the stairs.

“Most of our academic facilities are downstairs. Study rooms, a computer lab, and a small library. A few sound proof rooms for music students too. Remember those other teams I mentioned?” He looked across at Bucky, then nodded down to where a ginger-haired girl in a polo and pencil skirt was speaking with a lit up expression to a pair of parents. “They’re looked after by our academic mentors. There’s seven of ‘em; one for each academic college. They’ll be running a few things later in the week about timetabling and adjusting to university workloads and such. But there’s a schedule for all that in your welcome pack up in your room.” He assured him with a knowing smile as he turned them one-hundred and eight degrees; the office directly in front of them again.

“You’ve obviously been to the office already. That way-“ He pointed off to the left “Is our kitchens. We’ll brave that a bit later. This way.” He nodded to the right taking Bucky though a large set of double doors.

They emerged into a large space; the front half at which they stood was carpeted and lined with couches and tables. The back half floor-boarded and unfurnished, save for several billiard tables off to the side up a small run of stairs.

“Officially, this is known as the canteen.” Sam stated as Bucky’s gaze swept over the room, noting the memorabilia and photos hung up on the wall. Jerseys and medals behind framed glass. “Unofficially, the bar. And colloquially; Romanoff’s Lounge. Speaking of,” He jerked his head over to the far wall of the carpeted area. A bar, lined with stools was nestled at the wall, equipped with several appliances in the corner. Including a coffee machine, Bucky noted with a small smile. Glass shelves on the wall glistened with bottle of liquor, smooth deep colours contrasting against the harsh, bright colours of various confections and snacks lined on the other half of the shelves.

A woman with dark red hair tended to the coffee machine, chatting quietly to a guy with short brown hair beside her. Both in polo shirts.

“Another student team?” Less question and more casual observation.

“Was it the highly fashionable and definitely-not-unbreathable-polyester polo shirts that gave it away?” Sam smirked as he led them back into the main run of the building.

“They may have helped.” Bucky managed another small smile, almost with a hint of warmth. Sam simply laughed, indicating with an open hand to the ascending stairs that flanked the ones he had climbed to get to this level.

“Lemme get that for ya.” Sam offered, sweeping down and taking the handle of Bucky’s suitcase.

“I can manage it.” Bucky pointed out as they steadily made their way up the stairs, plateauing half-a floor up before they twisted back and merged into one upward flight.

“I’m sure you can.” Sam agreed playfully. “But I don’t mind. Good work out.” He added as they came to the first floor. The stairs split again, and the repeated the process again; up one side, back into one stair case that zigzagged over the previous one and reached a floor. Up, back, and a floor.

“And here we are. West tower, third floor.” He nodded to a plaque that affirmed as much on the wall. They continued onto the floor. “It’s a pretty simple set-up; communal bathroom in the middle, and the rooms are around the outside. And hereeee…” He trailed off, coming to a stand in front of a door. _W308_ “You are.” He declared, placing the suitcase on the floor and flourishing a hand to the door.

“Ah, cool.” Bucky toned, stepping forward and almost bodily thumping into it as he tried to pull down the handle and open it inward in one movement. But the door gave no quarter.

“Remember that envelope?” Sam cheekily prompted, pointing to a small, dark lens just above the door handle. Bucky awkwardly cleared his throat, pulling it from his pocket and tearing through the fold of it with a finger. He plucked the card out.

“Don’t lose that.” Sam warned as he looked it over. Blue with white writing. The running theme wasn’t lost on Bucky. “Costs money to replace and not good for security.”

“So like a real key.” Bucky noted drolly, putting the card to the black lens on the door. It blinked green and the door clicked. He slowly repeated the process of opening the door. This time, successfully.

“Shoebox would probably be a littleee generous.” Sam pointed out. The bedroom was narrow; two single beds on either side, raised high off the floor. A table with chair and a small, coffin wardrobe tucked under each one. As they stepped into the room, Sam pointed out the sinks with mirrors obscured by the open door; shelves directly opposite them. “Seems your roommate’s already claimed his.” He nodded to several boxes stacked on one of the tables.

“Mmm…” Bucky nodded in agreement as Sam placed his suitcase at the free wardrobe.

“Shall we continue the tour?” He prompted.

“Actually…” Bucky placed his backpack on the free table. He walked over to the window at the very end of the room, casting his gaze over the view of the university it afforded. Then he turned back to Sam. “I might take a few moments, if that works?”

“Sure man, whatever you need.” Sam gave a small but pleasant smile, nodding. “If you need anything, come find me, or any of the other RAs.” He indicated to the emblem on his shirt again with a sweep of his hand, chuckling and the over-dramatisation of the action. “But yours will be along soon enough. I’ll let him know.”

“Thanks”

“No worries, man.” Sam smiled, departing from the room and leaving Bucky to the space.

The brunette immediately let out a loud puff of breath, taking to his chair and rubbing his hands against his knees. Then he fumbled with his back, drawing a water bottle from it and taking a long draught. He settled against the back of the chair, which creaked slightly, and he looked up at the ceiling.

“What am I doing?” He groaned to himself, rubbing hands balled into loose fists over his eyes. He let his head roll to the side, eyeing the boxes of his roommate before looking at his own paltry collection of suitcase and bag. _At least bedding is provided,_ he thought, looking up at the crisp linens of his single bed. He frowned a little, noting some yellow material creeping just out at the edge. He put up his hand and plucked it down; a large envelope. He spilt it open onto his desk.

Various little documents and pages slipped onto the desk. Room inventory. A guide for first years. A map of the campus. A schedule of events for the week ahead. Out of all of them, he took that one in hand, and looked up at the small pin-board above his desk. Whoever used it last had generously left him some pins, and he took full advantage of the matter; placing it up in the corner of his board. Then he retrieved a pen from the side of his bag and circled a few of the events. Tour of campus and immediate city area. Timetabling. First year night, tonight. A few others.

He dropped his pen on the desk and looked over the schedule once.

There was a knock at his door.

He frowned slightly, pushing back his seat and slowly walking over to the door. He drew it open.

“Tell you what, your dad-“ The sentence was cut off as the man turned his attention from the paper he had been folding up and putting into his pocket to the doorway. He was tall, with a brightness in his smile that reached his eyes. Short blonde hair. A strain of muscles under a blue polo shirt. And a transition from general warmth to a surprised widening of his eyes as he looked at-

“Bucky?” He toned lightly, inflection rising. His grin grew wide across his face, and he shook his head with an incredulous laugh. Bucky furrowed his brow, staring, before his expression slowly eased, mouth falling agape.

“… Steve?” He questioned, long and drawn out. Mouth remained agape. “You’re… Taller.” He dryly swallowed on the sentiment, unable to help the wandering of his eyes over Steve’s form. While the statement was accurate, it was definitely only the tip of the proverbial iceberg. Steve brightly barked a laugh.

“I am!” He happily declared, stepping forward and drawing Bucky into an embrace. “It’s been so long!” Steve declared with a laugh. Bucky’s arms remained slightly dead at his sides in the hug; his face slightly pained.

“Uh, yeah.” Bucky concurred, giving a brief nod as Steve drew back from him. “Yeah it has been.” He reaffirmed with a drawl.

“I shoulda realised when I got my floor-list that it was you.” He playfully reprimanded himself, scratching at the back of his head; bicep twitching against the hem of the short sleeve. “But you were always Bucky, never James.” Steve admitted, lowering his arm and simply watching Bucky with a pleasant smile.

“Still am.” Bucky retorted, nervously chuckling.

“This is great. I’m your RA.” He flashed a grin, tapping the emblem. “Oh, um, RA stands for-“

“Residential Advisor.” Bucky interrupted with a small smile. “I know. I already got shown around by a guy called Sam.”

“Sam’s always got my back.” He smiled to himself, before straightening himself up slightly. “As do I, as your RA. I’m just down in room W312 if you need anything.” He chuckled as the self-perceived smooth segue back into business, before his features fell slightly; eyes soft and seeking across Bucky’s. “If that works for you. I know it might be awkward…” He acknowledged, trailing off. Bucky forced a small chuckle of his own into the silence.

“That’s the past.” Bucky dismissed with a wave of his hand. “Back when you were significantly smaller…” He wryly observed, looking at Steve expectantly. There was a small tinge high on the blonde’s cheeks, and a flash of a toothy smile.

“Ma got me onto a specialist. Helped me manage my ailments while slowly bulking up. A few years later…” He shrugged, letting out a long, light laugh that brought a slight tinge to Bucky’s own cheeks.

“Well… Well I’m glad.” Bucky acknowledged with practiced politeness and a smile.

“So am I, Buck.” Steve replied in his memorably sincere way.

There was a brief lull; one regarding the other.

Then a beep of Steve’s phone.

“Another one of my residents has arrived.” Steve read out from its screen before slipping the phone back into his pocket.

“Better go grab ‘em before Sam does.” Bucky teased. Steve schooled his expression into one of seriousness.

“Right.” He stated plainly, before easing. “You’ll be at the dinner tonight, right?”

“Don’t much fancy starving, so sure.” Steve laughed at the sentiment.

“Our Residents’ Committee cooked it, so don’t expect too much.” He light-heartedly pointed out. _What’s a Residents’ Committee_ Bucky questioned internally, but laughed on the beat of the matter. “But the tours tomorrow will take you to the supermarkets.” He added.

“Cool.” Bucky nodded. “Well… “

“Right, resident, got ya.” Steve nodded to himself, opening the door to Bucky’s room. He looked over his shoulder, flashing an almost child-like smile to Bucky before striding away into the corridor.

Bucky slowly let the door swing close. Then he grimaced and groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't intend to post this quite so early, but here we are; the first chapter. I know it is pretty sparse, but if you made it this far, then hopefully that means you at least like the writing style and _maybe_ some of the premise.
> 
> This is still a work-in-progress. I _aim_ to bring you chapters on a fornightly basis. Average chapter length and number of chapters potentially subject to change.
> 
> While this story is (implicitly) set in America, I am using my knowledge/experience of university and residential colleges from my own country, so I do apologise for any incongruences. If there are any particularly problematic differences, please let me know (or just let me know anyway as a point of interest).
> 
> Any and all comments appreciated.


	2. Move-In Night

_”Wow, Steve, That’s incredible.” Bucky murmured, still half sitting in his stool; leaning bodily to look at Steve’s canvas. His eyes, however, looked aside, watching Steve intently and with lips quirked as the blonde looked down at the floor, flushing high across his small face._

_“It ain’t nothin’ special, Buck.” Steve dismissed quietly with a small, bashful grin. “Besides, yours is-“_

_His face was frozen almost perfectly in place, but Bucky saw the slight drop of his smile and the glimmer in his eyes dissipate as they widened upon looking to his easel._

_“Good.” Steve concluded simply after the brief pause and reassortment of his facial expression. Bucky immediately burst out into raucous laughter._

_“Well thanks, buddy.” He hopped off his stool, turning and taking a step back to face his own work, bringing an arm up around Steve’s shoulder as he tilted his head back at his canvas; appraising thoughtfully. “Didn’t think it was much myself, but seeing you like it so much, it’s yours.” He offered, over-dramatic and drawling. Steve shoved at his side, little hands pushing into the other’s solid stance. Bucky dutifully fell onto the floor, clutching at his side and groaning._

_“Uhh, I think you ruptured something!” Bucky declared amongst his faux-pained groans, writhing on the floor boards._

_“Bucky, cut it out.” Steve shook his head, but couldn’t help his smile as Bucky draped an arm over his forehead, shadowing his eyes._

_“Nah, I’m dead now.” Bucky declared and grinned. Steve simply huffed with amusement, turning his attention back to his canvas, frowning minutely as he looked at it, before picking up one of his pencils and working at the edges of his picture._

_And Bucky silently remained in place, watching Steve past half-hooded eyelids. Focused on the intense furrow of his brow, the pierce of those deep blue eyes as they alternated between the subject of their art and the canvas. He lethargically let his gaze scan down the bend of Steve’s body, the hunch of his back, the curl of his fingers. Slowly looked back to his face. Those eyes._

_He was unsure how long he’d been watching him._

_“Bucky?”_

_Steve had turned to look down at him now._

_“You okay?”_

_“Yeah, Steve.” Bucky replied, quiet, light. A small smile. “I’m fine.”_

A dull thud against cardboard and a curse hissed through gritted teeth roused Bucky; groaning unimpressed as his eyes fluttered open. Bleary and unfocused on the somewhat grubby ceiling above him. He shifted atop the cover of his bed, leaning over and peeking over the small, wooden safety rail between him and open air. Below, a young man, brown of hair and stern of face, sat against the edge of the desk. He clutched at his foot, rubbing a thumb over his toe.

“Y’right?” Bucky drowsily enquired. He let his arm fall down a little off the side of the bed; bringing his hand up to grasp the wooden frame and pull himself closer to the flimsy rail. The man below had instantly snapped his head up to where he was.

“Just a kickboxing wound.” Was the distracted reply as he looked back to his foot. Bucky frowned slightly, then arched an eyebrow as he noticed the overturned, slightly indented box at the foot of the desk. His incredulous gaze was turned back to the man.

“Seriously?” A drawn out, incredulous query

“Seriously.” A smug grin was flashed in return as he pushed himself off the desk 

“Please tell me you’re my roommate.” Bucky met the grin with a smirk, sitting up slightly on the bed; tugging his shirt down from where it had hiked up his body.

“Nah, I’m just here to kick over your stuff.” The man deadpanned before curling into a cheeky smile, extending his hand up and out to Bucky. “Barton.” He offered. “Resident kicker of boxes and your room-mate.” He introduced. Bucky leant forward, firmly shaking his hand.

“Bucky. Glad I don’t have any boxes.” He added, scooting along the length of his bed toward the end.

“Yeah, noticed that.” Barton cast his eyes over the singular piece of luggage and backpack situated at Bucky’s desk. “Don’t gotta lot of stuff, or just like to be able to flee at a moment’s notice?” His voice amused as he turned his attention to his spilt box; beginning to stuff its contents back in before plonking it down on his desk.

“Bit of both.” He shrugged as he hoisted himself off the bed, landing with a dull thud.

“Fair enough.” Barton shuffled through the items of the box, looking over them passively. “You’re late, by the way.”

“Late?” The echo was half confused, half amused. Barton turned his head to him.

“Yeah. The Introductory… Thing.” He flicked his eyes toward the schedule that Bucky had pinned to the board above his desk, indicating to it with a thumb over his shoulder.

“Ah. Shit.” Bucky scratched at the back of his head, padding over the small space to his desk. He looked at the schedule, then slipped his phone from out of his pocket, checking the time.

“Didn’t miss much.” Barton frowned at a wad of papers he pulled out of the box, holding them up and examining them, though not the words written. He unceremoniously dumped them into the metal bin under his desk.

“Except for the free food.” Hand patted at his stomach that grumbled on cue. Bucky padded toward the sink. “Why aren’t you down there?” Water began to pour out of the faucet, and he scooped his hands under the stream before splashing it against his face. He caught Barton looking across at him with a dead stare in the mirror.

“Over-enthusiastic introductions. Awkward small-talk. Ice-breakers.” He listed. Bucky burst into a wide, toothy grin.

“You’re a real people-person, ya know that, Barton?” Hands carded through his hair, pushing back stray strands.

“Hey, I’m not saying I wouldn’t go down… Just once the drinks start.” Barton held the remainder of one of his boxes in hand. Then he hoisted it under one arm, opened the top drawer of his desk with his free hand, and overturned the contents into it. He tried to close it, but the top of the desk wouldn’t give way to the pile sitting out of the drawer. Barton frowned.

“Oh yeah?” Bucky scrunched up his nose and opened his mouth with teeth clamped together, examining them in the mirror. He flicked a tongue over them reflexively before easing the constricted expression. “When is that?”

“About now.” Barton replied, pushing down on the pile of stuff in the drawer.

“How do you know all this?” He rubbed his wet hands against his jeans and turned to look over to Barton, eyebrow arched as he watched the other vainly try to push two drawers of stuff into one.

“I’ve got an inside source.” Items were plucked from the drawer-pile, laid against the surface of the desk.

“Right. You gon’ come down?” Bucky thumbed at the door, and Barton gave a bark of laughter.

“And miss out on sorting my drawers?” Barton turned to him, face neutral in so far as it appeared to be vaguely scowling. “I’ll catch ya down there.” Bucky gave a one-shouldered shrug, slipping his feet into his dilapidated boots and heading out of the room.

There was an eerie stillness about the hallway.

Maybe it was the absence of chaperone in the form of Sam Wilson, filling the halls with tidbits of information and polite conversation. Maybe it was the lack of people bodily moving into their new rooms, or even occupying the rooms, and the associated noise that came with such a process. Maybe it was simply that no-one was here at the moment.

Bucky’s boots began to pad down the stairs with dampened thuds, and the sounds of muffled music and bawdy laughter floated up the stairs. In a minute, he was down in the foyer. People milled about, chatting, with bass pulsing in the background. Occasionally accompanied with the rest of the song as someone came through the doors to the lounge.

“Hey! Bucky!” Feet quickly thunked across the carpet as Bucky turned. Steve grinned as he came to a stop in front of him. Bucky couldn’t help but notice the subtle shifts of focus in the people around him as attention was redirected from the people they were talking to, and over to Steve. Furtive glances, conspiratorial. 

“Steve.” He drawled.

“You weren’t at the introductions.” A small, concerned furrow of his brow, but eyes still bright and soft. “I tried your room, but there was no answer…”

Bucky chuckled. Strained.

“I was asleep.” He admitted, shooting a look aside to those intently watching the conversation, or more precisely, watching Steve. “Long trip, ya know?” The tension in Steve’s shoulders immediately eased, rolling back. A smile played on his lips.

“Yeah, I know.” He shook his head a little. “Sam and I were just having some of the leftovers in the kitchen. There’s plenty left, if you wanna join?”

The well-timed gurgle of Bucky’s stomach was answer enough.

There was a beat, then both men burst out in laughter.

“Can’t argue with that.” Bucky grinned. “Lead the way.”

While the party raged on one side of the college, Steve lead Bucky into the massive kitchen on the opposite side of the building. The hall seemingly spanned on forever. Walls lined with cupboards no bigger than the packing boxes Bucky had watched Barton contest with, and giant, industrial refrigerators split into tiny sections. Kitchen islands of stove-tops and ovens took up most of the floor space, with more benches and cupboards at the periphery. And down the middle of the hall, one seemingly continuous (though with intermittent breaks, Bucky would come to realise) table with chairs tucked in at almost all available space.

“Whoa.” Bucky toned quietly as he was lead through. “It’s huge.” He muttered as they settled down where Sam and Steve had earlier set up. Steve winced slightly, raising a finger to Sam.

“Don’t-“

“That’s what she said.” Sam declared loudly, grinning wide. Steve gave a put-upon groan, running a hand down his face.

“Every time.” He grumbled with a laugh. “I’ll grab you a bowel and fork.”

“Cheers.” Bucky politely nodded as Steve strode back towards the cupboards. Bucky’s eyes lingered on the pull of his fabric across his muscles for a moment, before catching himself and turning back to Sam.

A saucepan of spaghetti, cold, sat between them.

“So… what’s their name?” Sam sing-songed, settling back into his chair with a smug smile.

“Huh?” Bucky’s brow skewed up.

“The gal, or guy, who kept you ‘occupied’ from coming down to the introductory dinner.” Sam stated playfully. Bucky all but snorted with laughter.

“No guy or gal to speak of.” Bucky crossed his arms, settling into a smirk to match Sam’s. “Just ‘occupied’ with thoughts of you.” He cooed dryly, making a little kissing motion with his lips.

“ _Please_ don’t encourage him.” Steve pleaded in a groan as he emerged from behind Bucky. He placed two bowls down on the table, quickly filling them with pasta from the saucepan as Sam grinned. 

“Now why not, Steve? Can’t I flirt with him, just a little? Not like I’m gonna sleep with him.”

Bucky arched an eyebrow as Steve rolled his eyes; disappearing into the depths of the kitchen with bowls in hand.

“Not gonna sleep with me?” Bucky echoed, amused. “What, not your type?” He teased.

“You do lack the _sorely_ needed, err, parts.” Sam chuckled in agreement. “But even then, still couldn’t.”

“Aw, can’t imagine I’d make a pretty dame? I’m hurt.” He clutched his hand to his chest, pouting for a moment before breaking into a grin.

“Now I’m sure you’d be one o’ the prettiest.” Sam affirmed, unfurling the cross of his arms and placing his hands on the table. “But it’s not you, it’s me. Or, more specifically, all of the RAs.”

“Huh?”

“What Sam is trying to say, here you go.” Steve was beside him again, sliding a steaming bowl in front of him before taking his seat beside him with his own. “Is that none of the RAs can sleep, or have romantic relations, with you. Or any of the other first year residents for that matter.” 

Bucky frowned, looking between the two of them.

“Why not?” He asked, a slight sneer of disbelief in his expression, curling his fork into the meal and taking a mouthful.

“All part of the RA ‘Duty of Care’” Sam air-quoted, but settled into a serious expression. “Because one of our main roles is looking out for you freshmen, the director of the college decided it was best not to muddy that caretaker relationship with anything else.”

“Surely… You can’t be told who you can and can’t sleep with? Be with?” Bucky questioned, brow furrowing further. There was a small sigh from Steve.

“If we want to keep our scholarship for doing this role, then yeah, yeah we do.” Steve informed him, lancing his fork into his spaghetti, twisting. “I don’t necessarily agree with it myself, but those were the rules when we signed up.”

“Not that Stevie has anything to worry about.” Sam cooed, winking at the blonde. “Can’t hook up with freshers when you’re already spoken for.”

“Sam, not now-“

“Oh really.” Bucky interrupted, breaking into a practiced grin. “Tell me all about her-“

“Ahh-“

“Steve!” There was a squeak of chair against linoleum as Steve was jostled forward in his seat, a dark-haired figure boisterously hugging him from behind; arms draped over his shoulders with face buried into the crook of his neck. Bucky tilted his head back, watching, as Sam dramatically ran a hand down his face with a groan

“Good God…” Sam grinned, flicking his gaze from Bucky to the newly arrived man, who simply looked up from Steve. 

“Yes, my son?” The man replied, grinning, toothy and sharp. Appropriately impish.

“You’ve been drinking.” Steve observed neutrally, not looking to the other.

“Mm, and _you’ve_ been hiding away from the party.” Came the mildly slurred response, hands tugging and slipping along Steve’s shirt; the man himself in a polo to match the others. Steve snapped his hands up, holding still the meandering ones across his chest, a tinge of pink on his cheeks. His mouth pulled into a thin line.

“Uh, Tony.” Sam interjected, looking intently at the man who was presently looking across at Steve’s unmoving expression. A few seconds ebbed away, and he turned his attention to Sam. “This is Bucky. Got here today.”

Tony slowly turned his head to look at him, then flicked his hands out of Steve’s grasp and stood up straight in one fluid motion. He extended a hand.

“Tony Stark. A pleasure.” He smiled, lips tight and no flash of teeth. “Do you study engineering?” 

“Bucky Barnes.” Matched the smile in intent and shook his hand, before frowning “And, ah, no?”

“Such a shame.” Tony shook his head and sighed loudly. “You won’t get to see me as often as you’d like. Which means we must go get a drink together now, for your sake.”

“Tony-“ Steve turned, looking up to him, eyes steely and focused.

“Don’t worry, _I’ll behave_.” He practically purred as he met the gaze, stroking a hand along Steve’s shoulder. A muscle in Steve’s jaw ticked, and Tony grinned wide.

“C’mon, kid.” He jerked his head to the exit of the kitchen, still watching Steve as he began to move away. Bucky looked at Steve, whose attention was sharply focused on the departing man, and then to Sam, who simply shrugged. So Bucky foisted a few forkfuls of spaghetti into his mouth, muttered his thanks, and strode after Tony in a semi-leisurely pace. He caught up to the man with ease, as Tony was slowly and deliberately sauntered through the hall.

“Ya know, I’m pretty sure we’re the same age.” Bucky pointed out.

“Still gonna call you kid.” Tony rebuked matter-of-factly, before quickly continuing. “So _you’re_ Bucky.” Looked at him out of the corner of his eye. Gave him the once over.

“Yeah?” Came the plain response. “That’s me.” He added with a forced chuckle. “And you’re Tony.”

“The one and only.” He grinned, leaning across and wrapping an arm around Bucky’s shoulders. He gave a slight jostle as they walked through the foyer. Steered them into the lounge; thronging with music, dancing, and drinks.

“Shots?” Tony called over the thrum of music, mimicking the motion with one hand, then flashing ID and cash to the red-head behind the bar as Bucky simply nodded in turn. Tony grinned, leaning over the counter and speaking to the woman; loudly enough that she could clearly hear, as Bucky gathered from the sceptical arch of her brow, but not loudly enough that he could. He looked about the room, which buzzed with inebriated energy. People making out on on the couches. Moving about to the flashing lights and thrumming music at the dance floor. Shouting conversations at one another in huddled pairs and groups.

He felt a tap on his shoulder, and turned his attention back to Tony, who gave a thumbs up and somehow widened his grin into fiendishness. A line of shots waited on the bar, with the woman moving away to further down the counter as she slipped folding money down her top.

“Cheers!” Tony cried out, picking up the first shot and clinking it against Bucky’s when he responded in kind. It was promptly downed. As was the next. 

And the next. 

And the next. 

When they polished off the final one, Tony leant forward, hand steadying on Bucky’s shoulder, leaning in against his ear.

“I’m gonna go get Steve!” He loudly slurred, pulling back and giving a definitive little nod before he slipped away into the crowd with a semi-unbalanced stagger.

Bucky remained at the bar. Shoved his hands into his pockets and looked down a little as he panned over the crowd again. Swayed slightly on the spot. Then he plucked his wallet from out of his back pocket; going through the process of ordering a beer from one of the others attending the bar. Tilted it in thanks as they disappeared to serve another customer. He took a few steps away, swigging at his drink, and finding himself standing alone in a sea of people. 

He found the nearest free couch and plonked himself down on it; legs slightly splayed and back pressed into the corner, allowing him a good view of the festivities. Minutes passed as he lazily surveyed the room, feeling the slight delay of his vision to the twist of his head. Took another swig, beer prickling against his tongue; lips wet.

“Come here often?”

Bucky looked up; a man of grizzled jaw and expanse of chest settling onto the arm rest beside him with ease, beer in hand. He didn’t look at him. Simply looked out at the other people like he had been doing himself. Bucky huffed in a loud burst of laughter, eyes shimmering as he shook his head. The man grinned, looking down at him.

“Too cheesy?” He questioned in a gravelly tease, but with a gaze that was solid, pinning. Bucky smirked.

“Not cheesy enough.” Came the playful rebuke, lifting his beer to his lips and tipping it back. The man beside him narrowed his eyes, just a touch; a dangerous glint sparking in them as he unabashedly focused on Bucky’s mouth.

Bucky slowly swallowed, pulling the beer back.

“I’ll remember for next time.” He stated plainly, giving a nod of his head. “Brock.” He introduced over the din.

“Bucky.” A nod in return, followed by a contented sigh in the back of his throat; blinking slowly as he felt the warmth of the shots coursing through his body. “So what’s a guy like you doin’ in a place like this?” He drawled, warm and fuzzy, flashing a crooked smile up at Brock.

“Now _that’s_ cheesy.” Brock acknowledged with a stilted laugh, taking a draught of his drink. “And not a whole lot… Yet.” A hand that had been just behind Bucky’s head suddenly became heavy along his shoulder, at the base of his neck. Fingers pulsing against the man underneath him. “And you?”

Bucky felt his cheeks tinge.

“Ah, well…” He chuckled, ducking down his head and looking at his beer, then across the room. “I’m just-“

And then he saw it. 

Saw _them_. 

In the tumultuous dark of the lounge, in the only clear line of sight, was Tony; hands clutched and desperately pulling at Steve’s collar as he leant up and sloppily kissed him up against a wall. Head twisting, lolling about as he keened forward, mouth pressing and brushing against mouth.

Steve was still. Hands on Tony’s hips. Held him close. Eyes closed. Bent over and quietly returning the intent of his lips; a slip of tongue.

A brush of hand against back brought Bucky back to the conversation.

Bucky startled, turning to face him. He paused, pursing his lips. 

“… Just waiting for you to show me to your room.” He stated bluntly, immediately standing up and turning to face Brock. He chugged down his beer, but kept his gaze, simultaneously wild and cold, pinned on the other man.

Who grinned, stepping up from the arm rest and drawing back his shoulders.

“Straight to the point.” He noticed, jerking his head toward the exit. “C’mon.”

Brock strode out of the lounge, across the foyer; gait strong and purposeful. He only turned once to look back to Bucky, who was half-walking, half-scampering to keep up with him. He grinned, a serrated smile. They rounded up the stairs, onto the first floor, and went down the end of one of the corridors. The door was swiped open, the room within dimly lit in lamplight. Brock held the door for Bucky as he stepped in.

“Won’t your-“ The question cut off as Brock lurched forward, slamming him against the now-closed door and pinning him in a messy kiss; open-mouthed and forceful. Bucky groaned into him, beginning to raise his hands toward Brock’s chest before the larger man darted out his arms; restraining his wrists under his hands, pressing them to the door. Bucky writhed minutely against him. A slight twist of his arms, an experimental roll of his body, which only caused Brock to growl heatedly and grind his hips up into him. Cock hard and digging into Bucky’s thigh, who moaned loudly as the kiss was broken.

“Nnn.” A low, guttural grunt in the back of Brock’s throat as he leant in, scraping teeth against neck before biting down, hard. Bucky arched his head up further, eyes fluttered to a close and breathing a heated sigh. And again, as Brock bit the same spot. Then he seized his grip around Bucky’s wrists. He stepped to the side as he yanked Bucky forward, and the man stumbled into the room.

“Strip. Then get on the bed.” Brock ordered, already slipping his own shirt up and off his chest; muscles stretching under skin with his arms held high, then shirt flung into a corner of the room. Bucky flushed as his eyes swept over the defined, solid tone of Brock’s body. He clumsily kicked off his boots, and promptly piled his clothes on top of them while Brock strode to the other side of the room, which was occupied by a double bed with desk and closet for one, rather than Bucky’s arrangement.

“You get a room to yourself.” Bucky noted in drunken distraction as he pulled down the clunky zip of his jeans and shimmied them down his legs. Brock snorted from where he busied himself at his wardrobe.

“Hopin’ for a third, were ya?” He teased roughly, and Bucky could hear the rustle of a packet and pop of a lid as the blush across his face deepened. He flicked down his black boxer-briefs.

“No, no, just uh…”

“Quit yappin’ and get on the bed.” Brock admonished, and Bucky felt a shiver down his spine as he crawled back onto the bed; nestling his head among the pillows. He looked aside, watching the tension of Brock’s back and arms as he busied himself. Then Brock turned to face him; cock rigid and glistening with lube as he gave a lazy pull of the shaft. Bucky moaned softly in the back of his throat, lips slightly parted as he fixed his gaze on it, unable to help a reflexive swallow. Brock chuckled, darkly.

“Well that helped shut you up.” The man noted firmly, kneeling on the edge of the bed, shuffling over the cover, then stopping between Bucky’s bent, splayed knees and collapsing over him. He grinned, wickedly, and locked Bucky in another bruising kiss; nipping at lips and dragging them through teeth intermittently. A finger teased down at Bucky, and as he pressed it into him, he leant up. Watched as Bucky arched back his head and moaned loudly to the ceiling; squirming on the digit.

“You really are eager, aren’t you.” Brock observed coolly, grinning feral as Bucky’s whole face flushed and he nodded, looking up at him with hooded eyes. Another finger circled around the already entered one, gradually slipping in to him and Bucky arched his back. Bit down on his lip and stifled a moan of pleasure as Brock worked his fingers inside him, pushing and curling slightly. Built a steady motion that caused Bucky’s own cock, hard and bobbing, to drool with pre-cum. 

“Mmm…” A contented rumble from above, cock grinding down against cock. Slothfully working down and in him simultaneously as the minutes ebbed away in a litany of grunts and groans mixing with the sweet breathy moans of Bucky.

Who then gasped as the fingers pulled back suddenly.

“Better get a handle on yourself.” Brock warned in dark humour, the tip of his cock pressing at Bucky. With a breathy nod, Bucky snaked one of the hands that has been draped back beside his head down his torso, lightly taking his own cock in hand. Other hand clenched in the pillow behind his head.

And then Brock slowly slid into him.

“A-Ahhh…” Bucky cried out loudly, grip on clothe and cock tightening and eyes dampening as he felt Brock fill into him. The man wasted no time settling into him; picking up an already steady pace of thrusts. Bucky breathed rapidly, scantly, but caught up to the momentum, matching the pull of his cock to the rhythm of Brock’s. Fucking into his hand in tandem to Brock fucking into him. Staggered cries of nonsensical noise and lusty moans picking up pace as they did. Hips snapped down against Bucky. Pace steadily increased.

“Get ready, _slut_.” Brock broke up the cacophony of noises with a hiss after who-knew how long, deeply thrusting and bottoming out into Bucky. He repeated the movement several more times, the groaned out loud as he slammed into him; his orgasm shooting forth. Pulsing down into Bucky.

Bucky cried out loud, his own cum spraying along his chest. Cock ebbed and spurted. Spent as they cooled down in their aftermath. 

No time was wasted on Brock’s behalf in pulling out of him, and flopping down onto the other side of the bed with a contented rumble in the back of his throat as he turned onto his side and closed his eyes.

And Bucky continued to catch air, looking aside at him. Took in those broad shoulders, strong back. Listened to the deep rhythm of this breathing. And in the slightly blurred aftermath of his orgasm, in the dimly lit backdrop of lamplight, Bucky smiled, small and sad.

_Almost_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Bucky. He's still relatively passive in this chapter, but now that we've got _most_ of the introductions out of the way, he will become much more active... So to speak.
> 
> Also, just in case there are any conerns: The sex scene is meant to reflect a drunken, consensual student hook-up, and not sex grounded in D/s dynamics beyond what is reflected in their personalities. Don't want you thinking that I wouldn't do things properly (or that this isn't the tip of the iceberg, heh).
> 
> Any and all comments appreciated.
> 
> Thank you for reading so far, as well as for kudos/subscriptions/bookmarks/comments. They are really quite motivating.


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